SoylentNews is people
SoylentNews
Robert M. Pirsig, whose "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance," a dense and discursive novel of ideas, became an unlikely publishing phenomenon in the mid-1970s and a touchstone in the waning days of the counterculture, died on Monday at his home in South Berwick, Me. He was 88.
According to the New York Times.
This was one of those books that more or less defined an era. I would recommend it, but I know from experience that it does not resonate the way it did in the '70's. A philosophy professor I knew said he used to use the novel to introduce philosophy, but one year, in the early '80's it just stopped working. Nonetheless, it is worth a read, even though,
In a foreword to the book, Mr. Pirsig told readers that despite its title, "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" should "in no way be associated with that great body of factual information relating to orthodox Zen Buddhist practice."
He added, "It's not very factual on motorcycles either."
But it does have a rather long discussion of Plato's Phaedrus and quite a lot about a certain motorcycle shop in Miles City, Montana. And the novel is much better than the movie, which of course was never made. Open roads, and may your handlebars never come loose, Robert!
(Score: 2) by hemocyanin on Wednesday April 26 2017, @03:25AM (2 children)
In my memory, he offers up the empty can of a beer he had been drinking as a source of shims, but as you say, _my_ memory may also be incorrect -- it's been decades since I read it.
Two parts stuck with me the most: First, was the thread interwoven throughout the story about the beauty of function. The shims parable is an example, John (the Artiste) chose to suffer an unsafe and uncomfortable condition because he was not attuned to the beauty of functionality and instead, focused on surface qualities. He chose a BMW precisely because he hoped its reputation for reliability would obviate the need to focus any attention on function, and of course, there is the fact that it is an expensive BMW which sort of screams "surface". (I say this as the own of 1978 BMW R80 on which I've done a lot of work myself)
The other little story I remember quite clearly, was about being in Sylvia's (the Artiste's wife) kitchen while the sink went drip, drip, drip. A simple fix with a washer costing pennies but rather than deal with the technology, they chose to reject learning about all that stuff -- they referred to such technology derisively as some kind of evil of the modern world (while at once enjoying fresh running water and of course, riding motorcycles). They were both smart enough to master it and doing so would improve their quality of life, but for some strange reason, they rejected technology while at the same time relying on it.
So the main lessons I picked up were: 1) function over form (there is beauty in the efficient operation of a thing that transcends its outward appearance), and 2) learn how do stuff for yourself and you can make your life better.
(Score: 3, Insightful) by aristarchus on Wednesday April 26 2017, @06:42AM (1 child)
You know, posting this has made me dig out my copy! And as you might imagine, the library of a 2400 year old philosopher can be rather large. Fortunately I have moved several times recently. But I seem to be missing the back cover of the paperback edition, and although there is an ad at the bottom of the page, I am not sure I have the entire book! So, last page is 406, last line, "You can sort of tell these things". Also, there are some stains on the face of the page-ends (there is a term for this), and it appears to be grease of some kind. Motorcycle grease? Could be.
Now, even I may have to give it another read. But never again Carlos Castaneda, the fake!
(Score: 1, Interesting) by Anonymous Coward on Wednesday April 26 2017, @10:15AM
I read it twice. It hit me differently each time. I suspect you're also a quick reader. It flew by like a summer ride for me both times. I liked that instead of proof, it offered arguments in favour; showing, in doing so, that the subjectiveness of quality is what makes strong positions akin to tasty dishes. Different in nutrition and flavour, and often the flavours might mix poorly, yet each can be good to consider or taste.
Similarly, I find myself really appreciating the literary suggestions of the Soylentils. Many thanks. Curated "worth reading" lists from mind with good taste are an incredibly valuable gift.